Ghostly
by Raven Ehtar
Summary: Mihael has only been at Wammy's for three weeks, and doesn't expect to stay much longer. Unable to sleep due to nightmares of his past, he notices what appears to be a ghost on the swings. Will the apparition give him a reason to stay?
1. Nightmares and Spirits

_**A/N: **__H-okay, here we be, with _Ghostly_. I won't say too much about it, just basically what was said in the summery: we're at the point when Mello first shows up at Wammy's and meets Near. This fic ties in with the other ones I've put up so far, and will tie in with the Beyond Birthday fic coming up soon (ish). (See the bulletin board on my profile page for more info.)_

_The only other thing is that this was originally going to be a oneshot, but I decided to chop it up into two parts to keep it from being cumbersome (like _At Your Gave _turned out to be). I just cut it where it seemed to make the most sense. Hope it's not too jarring._

_Song inspiration for this was _I'm Still Here (Jim's Theme)_ by Knight's Bridge. (I know, weird, but I think it fits a young Mello.)_

_**Disclaimer:**__ No owning of the Death Note occurred during the writing of this fiction. _

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Ghostly

Part One, 'Nightmares and Spirits'

Raven Ehtar

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_Flames engulfed everything. The house, the shed, the tree with the little swing… everything was being consumed indiscriminately by the wild, raging heat. Mihael could hear screams coming from inside the house. Desperate screams of a woman in pain, searching for her son._

_"Mihael! Mihael, where are you?! Mihael!"_

_The boy turned and ran. Ran away from the flaming house that had been his home, away from the shrieks of his mother as she searched the deadly house, never to find him. He ran to the garden, the family's vegetable garden that had offered him solace before._

_It was in flames as well. What was worse, he could still hear the screams. Screams of his name, over and over. Ignoring the licking heat, Mihael found the one corner of the garden not burning and sank to the ground, hands clasped tightly over his ears, trying to block out the sounds. It was useless._

"_Mihael! Mihael, __please!__ Where are you?!"_

"_There you are, Mihael."_

_The blonde boy looked up through the smoke and the tears, eyes stinging, dread seeping into every bone. He knew this voice, and it wasn't his mother._

_A tall bearded man stood before him, looming and backlit by swirling embers and the glow of flames. He wore heavy working clothes and a jacket, smelled of pipe tobacco, and was holding a familiar cane topped with silver in one meaty hand. He sneered down at the boy at his feet. "What's this? Crying now? Can't you even face your own work without blubbing?"_

_Mihael hiccupped, tried to stop the tears, to scoot backwards, away from the mountainous male. "N-No… I-I thought you were…"_

"_Thought I was still inside?" the man grinned without humor, baring teeth yellowed from nicotine. "Guess again. You'll need to plan better next time, little Mihael!"_

_The man's face contorted, the cane raised, Mihael cowered, waiting for the first blow to fall…_

---

Mihael sat up with a gasp, drenched in sweat and out of breath, the smell of smoke still clinging to the insides of his nostrils. He desperately dragged in lungful after lungful of air not tainted by ash or the smell of pipe tobacco. Slowly, his heart began to steady and his breathing became less panicked. He ran a hand through sweaty blonde locks, more to reassure himself of the reality than anything else. It had been a nightmare. Just another nightmare come to plague him. The house, the garden, and the man… they were all long gone now. He was…

… Where was he?

Mihael squinted into the darkness, trying to make out his surroundings. He was sitting in a large bed with good sheets; there was a desk in one corner, a bookcase in the other, by the bed was a nightstand with a lamp and a full glass of water…

The glass was snatched up on sight and drained. It was lukewarm, but the water soothed Mihael's aching throat. As he set the empty glass back down he remembered where he was: the Wammy House. Winchester, England. It was an orphanage for gifted children, he'd been told. After a year of drifting from one foster home to the next, some foreign gentleman in a suit telling him he had special talents had picked him up and brought him here.

Mihael grimaced, '_special_ _talents'_. He wondered how long it would be until he was kicked out, again. Homes never lasted very long. They would find out about his original home and what had happened there, or his temper would become too much to tolerate. It happened every time, and Mihael wasn't about to get his hopes up just because some old adult made pretty sounding promises. It had already been three weeks since he had arrived, it wouldn't be too much longer before something came up, and the questions, the interrogation, and then the desperate search for another place to send him began.

He patted the sheets around him and realized just how soaked they were with sweat. Where his body ha lain and was now absent the bed was unpleasantly clammy. Mihael got out of bed and started tugging the linens off. He could make do on an unmade bed. He'd had much worse in the last year; the loss of damp sheets was no hardship. Noticing that his pajamas were also clinging to him unpleasantly, he went to the dresser and took out a clean set, changing quickly

Out of all the places Mihael had lived since the fire, this one was probably the one he would miss the most. It was pretty nice as orphanages went. He had a private room, a nice bed and lots of clothes, there were a _lot_ of books to read, plenty of other children to play with, and the food was good… well, goodish. Yeah, this place he would miss when they finally decided that he needed to leave.

Not that the place wasn't weird, too. There was plenty about it that made Mihael wonder. All the kids here were super-smart, for one. He hadn't started the in-house schooling yet, but just listening to some of the others talking, he knew he would have a hard time keeping up. The building itself was odd. Old English construction and layout, it also had a couple of computer rooms and enough videogames and equipment to be a brand new facility. The juxtaposition was jarring.

Then there was this whole thing about some guy everyone called 'L'. He was supposed to be some hotshot detective that had also come from Wammy's, and who all of the children here were expected to emulate. Mihael didn't know much about him, but had already decided that he didn't like him. Anybody who thought they were so great that they needed little copycats to be just like him, he didn't like.

Mihael didn't feel tired after his adrenaline induced awakening, so he found a book, flipped on the lamp on the desk, and sat down to read. It was no good, though, as his mind wandered back to the oddities of Wammy's.

The psychologist had been a surprise. Within the first couple of days at the orphanage, he had been sent to see a kindly looking middle-aged woman with bright red hair and square spectacles. She was nice enough, but asked a lot of questions. Ones that Mihael hadn't minded at first, but they got more and more personal the longer he stayed in her office. Questions about his family, his home… and every response he gave was written down in a notepad. Even when he had shut his mouth and refused to answer any more, she had found something to write down. Just when he thought he was ready to scream, she had sent him back out to do what he liked.

After that, he had expected to be called into Roger's office. The man who ran the orphanage seemed the type to keep a close eye on things, but the call had never come.

Mihael rubbed the back of his neck, which ached with stress, and realized that the air in his room was stuffy. Coming out of a dream full of fire and smoke it had seemed clear and fresh, but now that he was fully awake, it was uncomfortably close. He got up, walked to the window and opened it, letting in a warm summer breeze. Mihael sat on the broad windowsill, looking down when his fingers found an odd roughness in the wood. In the dim illumination of lamp and weak moonlight, he could just make out where someone had scored a letter deep into the wood grain. 'B'.

Mihael blinked at the lone letter. Right. That was another weird aspect to this place: no one was allowed to use their real name. They were to keep the first letter of their first name, get rid of the rest, and choose a new name starting with that letter.

_"Once you entered these walls, you have left your entire past behind. What happened to you, or whatever you have done, it no longer matters. Discard it all, including your name. From now on, Mihael Keehl is no more, and until you choose a new name, you will be known simply as M."_

'M' traced the 'B' in his windowsill with a thumbnail. Whoever used to have this room before him had given up his name, and taken up a single letter in its place. What secondary name had he picked?

Mihael had thought about it, but couldn't think of any name he liked well enough to take on as a new identity. 'Mihael' was just who he was. To give it up, and to give up his past, that would leave him with nothing. _He_ would be nothing. To give up his past, there had to be something to replace it, first. And even if he did have something new, the nightmares would still be there.

He looked out his window, surveying the moonlit scenery. He was on the second story, and had a fairly good view of the grounds. It was a nice little piece of land they had here, that was certain. The lawns were all smooth, with no sudden holes to trip anyone up. There were trees, some with their braches trained low specifically for climbing. Mihael had even heard that somewhere on the grounds there were gardens, but he wasn't quite ready to visit those yet. What his window looked down on, though, was a little playground, with slides, a jungle gym, and a set of swings.

Mihael stared down at it without really seeing it, just letting his mind wander. It wasn't until the bell tower chimed the half-hour, (2:30am), and something moved in the playground, that he realized there was more there than equipment and moonlight.

There was someone sitting in one of the swings. He – at least, Mihael _thought_ it was a he – had been the in shadow of one of the slides, but at the sound of the bell had picked up his head, catching a streak of moonlight. Mihael gasped, as the first irrational thought to go through his head was that it was a ghost. The hair, skin, and clothes of the figure below were all pure white, and wherever the moonlight touched, he seemed to glow.

Automatically, a hand went up to clutch at the rosary around his neck, a reassurance that no specter could harm him. As his hand wrapped around the smooth beads, he took in some more details about the figure on the swing. It was small, smaller than he had first thought, so that one foot was well off the ground, even though it dangled freely. The other foot was tucked up on the swing, so that the knee was held close to the figure's body. One tiny hand rested on that knee, while the other was lost somewhere in the silvery hair. The clothes appeared to be just pajamas, which would make sense considering the hour, the feet covered with white socks.

Mihael stared for a long time. It was no ghost, he was almost certain. It looked too solid. But he couldn't remember ever seeing this boy around the orphanage. Someone with a head of white hair should have been fairly memorable, but he had no recollection of him.

The boy on the swing suddenly looked up, right at Mihael. The blonde almost took a step back. From where he was standing, the ghost-boy's eyes looked huge, cavernous set into such a pale face. He wondered for an instant if he had been right from the start, and this really was some kind of spirit come to haunt him. Then he remembered the lamp on the desk he had switched on. It wasn't very bright, but it would provide enough illumination to backlight him and make him visible from the outside. He stayed put in the window, and watched to see what the other boy would do.

For a while, he did nothing but stare up at his window, the hand at his hair moving slightly. Mihael squinted, and saw that he was twirling his hair. It was a very childish motion, and he wondered how old the boy on the swing was. He would guess no more than five. Eventually the boy got up, making a little hop to reach the ground, and slowly walked back toward the building. Mihael was relieved, and finally felt like he could move away from the window. Whoever that was, he was strange.

He was just crawling back into bed when he heard very soft sounds outside his door. Sounds that could have been small footsteps being made by clothed feet. Had the ghost-boy figured out which room was his by the light in the window? Was he coming to see who had been watching him?

Mihael froze, listening closely. The footsteps, quiet as they were, came closer to his door, until they were right outside. Mihael was sure that just for a fraction of a second, they paused before moving on. The soft footfalls slowly receded. There was the very faint sound of a door opening and closing somewhere down the hall.

Mihael let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. Why had he frozen up like that? He wasn't afraid of some kid younger than him! He settled back under his blanket, angry at his brief lapse, and making a note to look for the boy in the morning. Seeing him in daylight would help dispel any remaining qualms he had concerning the little ghost.


	2. Challenge

_**A/N:**__ Whew, two parts up in one day… that was kind of insane, I don't think I'll ever so it again. Anyway, part two, and last part for this shorty. I wanted to get it up and out of the way so I could move on to 'the big project' that's been taking up an inordinate amount of space in my head. (nothing else wants to fit anymore)_

_Anyway, I hope y'all liked this, at least a little. If you took the time to read, please drop me a review. I love hearing what people think._

_**Disclaimer:**__ I __still__ don't own Death Note, even though I begged… :(_

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Ghostly

Part Two, 'Challenge'

Raven Ehtar

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_Fire, screams, choking smoke and ash, the glint of a silver handle as it came down in a wide, slow arc…_

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Mihael jumped, waking just before the blow landed. Another nightmare.

He took in a shaky breath, reaching for the glass on his nightstand. At least it hadn't been as long as they usually were. He hadn't woken up screaming, and his bed wasn't soaked with sweat as it had been the night before. If he could just manage to sleep through the night, that would be a welcome change.

He sighed, and got out of bed. He was wide-awake again, so there was no point trying to get any more sleep for a while. Without thinking, he walked over to the window and looked down at the little playground. The moon was still working its way to becoming full, and the sky was clear, so everything was clearly visible. There was no pale boy sitting on the swings tonight.

Mihael was a little disappointed. He had tried to find the boy during the day, get a good look at him while he wasn't drowsy or just coming out of a nightmare, but he had no luck. He'd asked Matt, the one boy here who didn't seem to be afraid of him, about any white haired orphans that stayed at Wammy's. He'd smiled at the question.

_"Yeah, that's Near. He's a little weird, but he's okay. You'll see him when you start classes, but he's kinda hard to pin down if you don't know where he likes to hang out."_

The hard to pin down comment had been true. He'd gone through every common room, watched at every meal, and still hadn't seen him. Mihael could only assume that he spent a lot of time in his room, and he was just missing the pale boy the rest of the time. It really shouldn't matter to him, anyway. He was just curious about the ghostly boy he had seen, and why he had been outside so late at night.

It didn't matter. Mihael wouldn't be here long enough to have to get to know the boy, so why worry? It was bad enough he was getting to know Matt, and coming to like the redhead somewhat. The younger boy was so laid back and tolerant of Mihael's dark mood it was unreal. The sheer novelty of it had Mihael actually calming down whenever he was in Matt's company. Plus, he had the largest videogame collection in the entire house, (game rooms included), and wasn't too stingy to share. He sighed again. It would only be more painful when he was sent away, if he started making attachments like this.

The playground looked nice, when he came to think about it. It looked quiet and peaceful, with no gaggles of kids running around and yelling at the top of their lungs. Maybe the kid in white, 'Near', had the right idea. Since he was awake anyway…

Grabbing his jacket, Mihael made his way quietly out his door and down the stairs.

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The night was warm and Mihael hardly needed his jacket. There was a light little breeze, bringing him the scent of flowers and fresh cut grass, and the sounds of some late season crickets not far off, singing their way through the night. Mihael walked to the little playground, looked back up at the blockish outline that was the Wammy building. He'd left the lamp in his room on again, and yes, he could definitely see the light. With all of the other windows black, his leapt out of the dark. He sat down, taking the same swing that Near had sat in the night before. Near must be really short, because Mihael's feet reached the ground fine.

He could understand why the other boy had spent time out here, it was very calming. The tension in his shoulders brought on by the dream and the memories it brought up began to melt out of him as he swung gently back and forth. His head lolled a little bit as the motion combined with the soothing night made him drowsy again.

…

There was a sound in the gravel just in front of him. Mihael's head shot up, sending a little shock of pain down the back of his neck as muscles instantly cramped. He'd fallen asleep in the swing, and someone had come close without him noticing until they were right in front of him.

White socks, white pajamas, skin so pale it glowed, and white, feathery locks of hair being twirled around a thin finger. It was Near, come back to sit in his swing again, only to find another boy sitting in it, asleep. He was holding something in his other hand, Mihael noticed. It looked like a toy… a robot, red and white. What caught and kept his attention, though, were the boy's eyes. They had looked huge the night before, at a distance. Up close they were monstrous, almost too big for his little face, the large pupils and dark irises only making them seem larger.

The boy, Near, stared at him expressionlessly, not speaking a word. Mihael, not knowing how to react, now that the boy he had been searching for all day was in front of him, stared back dumbly. After a minute or so of silence, the younger boy finally spoke.

"Hello."

The single word, spoken as though the ghost-boy were bored, shook Mihael out of his stupor. "Hi. You must be Near." He hoped knowing Near's name, when this was the first time they had met, would throw him off a little, giving Mihael the advantage in the conversation.

The hope was a vain one, as Near didn't even blink those huge eyes at the familiarity. "I am," he said, voice still flat. "You are the new child. M."

Mihael bristled a little. It wasn't being reduced to a letter, everyone at the orphanage called him M. He was the only one who still thought of himself as 'Mihael'. It was being called a child by someone who looked to be a foot shorter than he was, and the tone, or lack of one that was annoying him.

"How old is M?" Near asked, not appearing particularly interested in the answer.

Mihael blinked. Had he just been referred to in the third person? "Eight. How about you?"

"I am six, seven next month," the boy said, walking through the playground gravel in stocking feet. Standing as high on his tiptoes as possible, he just managed to get himself into the second swing. Once settled into the seat, he tucked up one of his feet like he had the night before. It looked horribly unstable on the swing, but Near kept his balance, even with one hand permanently locked in his hair.

For six, nearly seven years old, he really was small. About that age was when most kids started putting on some serious growth, but Near still looked four or five. The overlarge white pajamas and the robot didn't help.

The boy had fallen silent again, and appeared content enough to stay that way. Mihael fidgeted a little. Any last worries he may have had about Near being a ghost were blown away. He was kinda creepy, but too bland to be a ghost. Sitting in silence with him, though, in the middle of the night with no one else around was too much.

"Why were you out here last night?" he blurted. It was the only thing he could think of.

"The same reason I am here tonight," he replied.

… Well, it was an answer… a fairly useless one, very literal. "So why are you out here tonight, then?"

Near tilted his head toward him, large eyes still eerily unblinking. Mihael's eyes began to water in sympathy. "Why is M?"

The watering eyes were narrowed. What was with this kid, couldn't he answer a single question straight? "I asked you first."

Near considered this. _Probably trying to think of a way around answering it,_ Mihael thought. To his surprise, Near did answer his question directly. "I like to come outside occasionally for the fresh air."

"Why not come out during the day? There's people to play with then."

The other boy shook his head. "No. I do not enjoy rough play with others. And even if I did, I could not come out during the day for an extended period of time."

"Why not?" Internally, Mihael was marveling a little at the vocabulary of this six-year-old. He had been thinking that he seemed younger than six, now he was pulling a 180-degree turn and considering the possibility that he was actually older than six.

The hand caught up in his hair tugged a little, bringing attention to the silvery glow of moonlight on white locks. "I am an albino. The sun's rays are very damaging to me."

Mihael looked closer at Near. He _was_ very pale, and it would explain the hair, but… "I thought albino eyes were red."

"That's not necessarily true for all cases of albinism."

Mihael paused. "So you only come out here at night?"

The head nodded, and the dangling foot began kicking back and forth slowly, setting the whole swing in motion. "But only in summer, when the nights are warm. Why does M come out at night?"

There it was again, that referencing in the third person. It was very distracting. He tied to think of an excuse for his nighttime stroll, but then decided against it. Why hide it if he would be leaving soon? "I had a nightmare and couldn't sleep."

"What was it about?"

_Nosy,_ Mihael thought. He shrugged, as though he didn't care. "Just some stuff that happened a long time ago."

Near swung for a while without speaking. Mihael was relieved that he seemed to have dropped the subject. He didn't want to get into the content of his dreams with someone he had just met. He didn't want to explain why he still dreamt about the man with the cane that burned into his flesh, why the screams of his mother still echoed in his skull, the sight of his home becoming no more than blackened ruins and ash forever seared into his eyes. He didn't want to remember how desperate he had become for escape from that place, any kind escape… How he had found the matches the man used for his pipe…

The monotone voice shook Mihael out of his unintentional recollections. "M was asleep when I found him."

The older boy sighed. "Yeah, I was."

"Were there nightmares?"

"No. I wasn't asleep long enough for dreams." Or was he? There was no way to tell how long he had dozed before being woken up. Maybe it was being outside that made it hard for the dreams to find him.

Near stopped kicking his foot, and his swing slowly came to a stop. He looked over at Mihael again, his face blank. "M should consider speaking with Wammy's psychiatrist. She may be able to help ease M's nightmares."

Mihael felt his cheeks flush. Constantly being called M to his face was really getting on his nerves, and he was tired of being told he should talk about his past. It seemed like everyone was on his case about it. First Roger, then the shrink, even Matt had hinted at it, and now this… this _albino_ was saying the same thing! "I'm not seeing that woman again," he snapped. "I'll be leaving soon, so there's no point."

There was still no expression on Near's face – that was getting irritating, as well – despite the fierce scowl Mihael had aimed at him. He shrugged and looked down at the gravel. "I had heard that M was very intelligent. The one who told me so must have been mistaken."

Mihael stiffened, the heat in his face growing. "What's that supposed to mean?" he growled. If Near thought he was safe from a smack or two just because he was younger, he was in for a surprise. That smart mouth of his would earn him a few bruises.

The boy shrugged again. "Wammy's House is a place for intelligent orphans. If M if going to leave, he must not be intelligent."

Oh. Mihael let himself unwind a little. "I _am_ smart," he snapped. "It's just… there are other things that will get me thrown out."

"Such as?"

It was Mihael's turn to shrug. "Stuff," he said vaguely.

Near fiddled with his robot as he examined the boy sitting in his usual swing. His head was bowed now, face obscured by a curtain of straight yellow hair, and he was digging a hole in the gravel with bare toes. He was touchy about his intelligence, but that was somewhat expected. Smart people usually were. In a place like Wammy's that could become an interesting problem. He wouldn't be pushed any further for personal information, either, not without some rather impressive repercussions if the look in his ice blue eyes were anything to go by. That was all right. The details of whatever M was hiding weren't important. Near got the general idea well enough. He sighed to regain the other boy's attention. "Wasn't M told by Roger to discard his past? That applies to all aspects. Wammy's House does not care what M, or any of us have done before coming here. What matters to them is our abilities, and what we can accomplish with them."

Mihael blinked at Near, not quite believing what he was hearing. They seriously didn't care? That's what 'discarding your past' was supposed to mean? It was a nice turn of phrase, but still left Mihael with the problem of having a future to replace it with.

"Did M know," Near piped, changing the subject abruptly, "that out of all the children currently residing at Wammy's House, I am top ranked? The most intelligent, and most likely to succeed L."

An eyebrow was raised at Near's bold, and unexpected, statement. The boy's monotone made it hard to tell if he said it to be boastful or if it was just an interesting fact to him. "That so?"

A nod. "And Matt is ranked in the second place."

Mihael started. _Matt?_ In the three weeks he had been at Wammy's, he had only ever seen Matt play videogames and eat junk food. He was number two in this place?

Near pulled on a lock of hair absently, looking up at the orphanage. "I wonder what rank M will be?" The overlarge, dark eyes drifted back down to Mihael. "If M is intelligent enough to stay, that is."

It might have been a trick of the shadows, combined with the very gentle sway of Near's swing, but he could have sworn that there had finally been an expression on that face. A smirk. A confident, self-satisfied smirk that said he was better than Mihael, and had no chance to change that. In the next instant it was gone, if it had ever been there, and all that was left was the pale face and dark eyes, mouth innocently neutral.

Mihael felt the latent fury in him finally bubble all the way to the surface. He stood up quickly, leaving his swing to bounce and shudder erratically. In two steps he was right in front of Near, glaring down at him. He grabbed the chains of his swing and pulled them closer, pulled Near closer. "I'll be number one, you smug little twit."

Near blinked, the first time Mihael had seen him do it. He felt a little elation at the sight. He'd made this boy, who seemed more like a robot, do _something_. It was a tiny victory, but Mihael took it. There didn't appear to be any other changes worth counting as victories, as there was still no expression, and no change in the boy's voice. "If M believes he can surpass both Matt and myself."

"Stop calling me M!" He jerked the chains, making Near wobble in his unstable seat.

"Then what is M's name?" asked the pale boy, unperturbed.

He almost shouted 'Mihael', but caught himself. That wasn't his name anymore, no matter if he still felt like Mihael. Yelling it in this boy's face wouldn't be a victory, but a loss. He cast out for a name, any name starting with an 'M' to give to Near. What he got was a word. He didn't know where it came from, but it felt right.

He smirked down at Near, and shoved the chains in his hands as hard as he could. The motion rocked the small boy, who was already unstable thanks to his way of sitting, and sent him sprawling into the dusty gravel.

Not waiting to see if the younger boy would start crying, he turned away and began walking back to the orphanage. Calling back over his shoulder, he said, "My name's Mello."

He grinned to himself in the dark. Mello. He liked it. It was different. It felt stronger than Mihael did, made _him_ feel stronger. The more he thought about it, the better it seemed to sit with him. It made him feel like he could sleep easy. Like he could chase away the nightmares.

Back by the swing, watching the newly renamed blonde walk – no, _strut_ back to the building, Near twirled his hair. He sat up in the gravel, his robot lying by one knee. So that was M. Mello, now. Matt was right, he was a little sensitive. It almost made him laughably predictable, despite this being the first time Near had spoken with him.

He watched as Mello disappeared back inside with a final bang of a slamming door. The little ghost smiled gently to himself in the moonlight.

"Gotcha."

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_**A/N2:**__ Yay, all done! Don't forget to review, please! Cyber Pocky awaits the reviewers… _


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